His Name Was Freddie
by james-cook
Summary: A one shot. It's been over a year since Freddie's death and Cook is still struggling to find ways to deal with the pain of his loss.


Smoke hung thick in the air, almost suffocating Cook as he began his fourth pint. Or maybe it was his fifth. Either way he was far more drunk than JJ, who was still nursing his first. A softer song came over the sound system and Cook felt his heart sink. The pressure in his chest was so familiar he should have been able to ignore it by now. If only it was something insignificant like a girl, or his mum making him feel this way. If only the past year and four months had helped him heal at all. As his eyes drifted shut at the bar, Cook found himself in a place he'd been praying to forget.  
><em>Blood covered his hands and appeared in stains across his shirt, his face, and his trousers. Even then he could remember the sounds, the smell of booze still escaping him with each labored breath, and the urge to be sick all over that cluttered basement. John Foster laid before him, a bloodied baseball bat hanging limp from his hand. "Fuck." Whimpered Cook as he fought back tears. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He shouted clenching his fists and looking around nervously. Up the stairs he heard a loud crash. Cook stopped breathing. Another crash and a loud groan traveled to the dark basement. In a snap decision, Cook picked up the bat and quietly made his way up the stairs. "Who the fuck's there?" He asked sternly, poking his head out. No response. Even in the dark he could tell that Foster had been packing his things, ready to skip town no doubt. As he walked into a small living room, Cook was about to call out again when he saw a body lying on the floor, shaking with fear. "Freds." He said in a breath and dropped to the floor next to his friend. It was dark and Freddie's face was badly beaten but there was no doubt in Cook's mind that it was him. He pulled Freddie up into his arms, holding him tightly. "Freds, it's alright... We're gettin' you out of here... You're alright." Cook was crying now as well as he struggled to pull his cellphone from his pocket.<em>  
>"Another round?" JJ's enthusiastic voice brought Cook to attention. With tears in his eyes and his jaw clenched, he shook his head.<br>"Nah, Jay... I think I'm just gonna go home." Cook whispered.  
>JJ jostled his friends shoulder. "Oh, come on Cookie. It's your twentieth birthday." He cheered but Cook's expression didn't change. He simply finished his drink, gave JJ a pat on the head, and walked out of the pub without another word.<p>

Outside, Bristol's cold crisp air cut through Cook's thoughts. He pulled his windbreaker closer into his body and lit a cigarette as he walked back towards Naomi's flat. Time moved slower when he was alone. Like everything slowed down just so he could be with his own fucked up memories. Ten minutes felt like an hour. One hour felt like six. All the while he was trying to focus on anything - cracks in the pavement, stars in the sky - to keep himself out of his head.  
>When he was only two blocks away from his destination, Cook couldn't stand it any longer. He collapsed to the sidewalk with warm, salty tears falling from his eyes. He sat on the curb with his head cradled in his hands, the end of his cigarette began to burn his fingers a bit. "I'm so sorry, Freds." He whispered through gritted teeth. "I'm so fucking sorry." A sob came from him as he gasped for another breath of cold air. "You were always there. But I wasn't." His words were choppy and he began to shiver. Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder and Cook jumped up quickly, almost knocking over a short girl with wavy brown hair.<br>"Sorry." She said quickly with a smirk. Her expression changed when she saw Cook's state. "I'm really sorry." The girl said again sounding more sincere. "I was just wondering if you've seen a little boy around here? He's uhm, he's my brother and I was supposed to be watching him." Her voice was nervous and apologetic. "He's like this tall, red shirt, hair like mine." Cook lifted his eyes from the street to see her hand lifted to the middle of her stomach. He shook his head.  
>"No... I haven't seen anybody." He replied, wiping under his eyes with the back of his hand. A look of shock crossed his face when the girl sat down and began to cry.<br>"For Christ's sake." She yelled, running her hands through her hair. "My mum is going to absolutely fucking kill me." Cook cringed at the exaggeration. "I mean, he's my brother and I just let him run off? Siblings are meant to protect each other, yeah? Well I'm fucking shit at that." She ranted on, each word felt like a blow to Cook's stomach. "Like, what if he gets hurt? Or lost?" The girl finally looked back up at Cook, her face embarrassed. "Sorry... Sorry to just, unload on you like that." She said, looking back down at her hands. Cook crouched down beside her.  
>"It's no problem," He began. Only it was a problem. Every word that came from her sounded as though it was meant for Cook. Freddie needed him for support in his last few weeks and Cook wasn't there. Freds had always been there to save Cook but as always, Cook was too lazy and too slow and too fucking thick to save his friend. The tightness in his chest began to resurface. Cook breathed through the pressure. "I uh... I had a brother too once." He continued. Right as he entered the story he realized it would be of no benefit to the girl in front of him. But the need to tell somebody was too great. Somebody who wasn't JJ or Naomi or a therapist. "We were best mates, always... He was the best brother I could have found." A small smile actually grew on Cook's face as he thought back to primary school with Freddie and JJ.<br>"What's his name?" The girl asked, sniffling and looking up into Cook's eyes.  
>"Freddie." Cook felt a lump in his throat. "His name was Freddie." The two sat quietly for a moment before Cook spoke again. "Look, you've got to go look for your brother, yeah? Cause I didn't look for mine until it was too late and the way I feel... The constant fucking guilt and always wanting to fucking cry? I don't wish this shit on anybody." His voice cracked and he stood back up again. The girl on the sidewalk nodded and stood up as well. Cook heard her call thanks behind him as he walked off hurriedly, not wanting to cry in front of a total stranger. He stormed down the streets of Bristol until he finally reached Naomi's. He burst through the door and straight up to his room. Cook stripped down to his pants and sat on the edge of his bed, rocking back and forth a bit. It was just the same as any other night as he smoked the day's last cigarette and curled up under his duvet. Tonight, however, Cook didn't cry as he drifted off to sleep. Instead he closed his eyes tightly and imagined the girl from the street finding her brother and bringing him home. Maybe they'd get some chips first, or maybe watch a film when they got home. He thought about Freddie and how nice it would've been to find him sitting at a bus stop, waiting to leave Bristol. Cook would've sat with him and shared a spliff. They'd talk and eventually Freddie would sigh and nod his head, agreeing to stay for Cook and JJ. Another smile spread across Cook's face at the thought and slowly, he fell asleep imagining happy scenarios to replace the worst moment of his life.<p> 


End file.
